++chapter two++

The law of entropy states that things, in general, tend to gravitate towards a greater measure of randomness and disorder. This proved true for Duke, or at least for his room, which literally looked like a keg of gunpowder had been lit and exploded inside his wardrobe. Clothes, both dirty and clean, were strewn about haphazardly, hiding whatever strange and mayhap dangerous objects that rested on the floor. It was hard to believe that the man had only lived at Budehuc for six weeks, for surely that type of mess took years to fully cultivate.

Whenever someone was stupid enough to approach him about it, Duke always responded in the same manner. He simply claimed that he liked it that way; that, yes, he did like to attract pests, and yes, he did enjoy risking his life crossing the room on a daily basis. However, he would also extend an offer for this person to clean it up if it so pleased him, which usually scared any inquirers away, anyway.

It was in this room--if one could call it that--that Duke had spent most of his time for the past week. He figured that Nash couldn't bug him if he stayed in there.

Well, alright, that wasn't exactly true.

Duke despised lying to himself, but he'd do it if he had to. This was one of those situations where he felt it best for his sanity and general well-being if he did. It just so happened to be that for the past week, Duke had been agonizing over that simple kiss in the hallway. It was such a stupid, trifling, little thing, and yet, when he chose to (never, if he could help it) he could still recall the feeling of Nash's lips on his. They were as soft as any woman's--softer, if that woman was Elaine--and smirking; laughing at him.

And the truth of the matter was, Duke wouldn't terribly mind encountering those lips again. He really wouldn't mind seeing those lips doing something other than smirking at him and he especially wouldn't mind feeling those lips against his own--or other parts of his body, for that matter. But the truth is overrated, anyway.

The mercenary paced his room, plowing through stray laundry and stubbing his toe on his long-lost sharpening stone, which certainly did nothing to improve his already stormy mood. Hobbling over to a chair disguised as a bookshelf/hamper, Duke cursed the world and all moving things therein. Especially married, blonde men who didn't have any business going about kissing dangerous, hardened mercenary captains. This was all Nash's fault. Whenever Duke felt ready to leave his room, that man was going to get such a pounding.

Duke growled when a certain part of his brain took the threat the wrong way and agreed, snickering. This was why he got drunk all the time.

Which didn't seem like a bad idea, now that he thought about it. It wasn't like he could get into too much trouble if he stayed in his room, right? Duke started hunting for that bottle of vodka he knew he had laying around somewhere. Fifteen minutes and a growing pile of empties later, the fiery-haired man gave up looking. His room had ate something precious to him, once again. Knowing his luck, he'd probably find it by stepping on it and/or breaking it a few weeks from then.

Standing amidst the wreckage he caused during the frantic search, Duke sighed in defeat. He was going to have to leave his room, and probably face Nash again. Maybe he could manage to sneak to the tavern and back unnoticed...?

Wait a minute. He was the captain of the Fourteenth Unit of the Holy Harmonia Kingdom's Southern Frontier Defense Force. He didn't sneak anywhere, and he certainly didn't hide from twiggy, weak, pencil-necked, long-legged, slender, roguishly handsome...

NO.

Duke beat his head against the bedpost a couple of times before falling onto the mattress, ready to beat the snot out of himself and his treacherous brain. Why couldn't it just get the point? He didn't like men! He didn't! No, no, no, no, no! Maybe if he said it a couple of times, his brain would understand.

He didn't like men.

He didn't like men.

He didn't like men.

He liked one man.

It's horrible when one is brought to blows with one's self. This was a lesson Duke learned the hard way. He swore he was going to throw himself out the window, if only to shut himself up. It was times like these that made him wonder if he hadn't gone insane.

Luckily or unluckily for him, there came a knock on the door before he could do any real harm to himself. Grateful for the interruption of his internal brawl, Duke bounded to the door as best he could--his toe was still throbbing--and opened it.

Elaine stood there, her fist poised to knock again. Duke didn't catch his crestfallen look quickly enough, much to the woman's chagrin. She gave him a dry look before speaking.

"Good to see you, too, Duke." Her tone was so arid, it made the badlands of Jowston look like a blooming oasis. Reacting to the jibe the only way he knew how, he countered it with his own.

"Always a pleasure, Elaine," said Duke, moving out of the way to let her in, despite his words. This apparently pleased Elaine, as she strolled in and made herself comfortable on the bed. Duke frowned at the woman's forwardness, but chose not to comment on it. He'd never given her any reason to think she belonged anywhere else. This brought up the question as to why she was visiting in the first place. "What do you want?"

Elaine sighed dramatically, her movements becoming exaggerated. "Must I always want something when I come to see my captain?"

"That is usually how it goes, yes." Duke leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms over his chest, his posture making it very clear that he wasn't feeling accommodating... well, less than usual, in any case.

"You're such a bastard sometimes, Duke. I could just as easily turn my attention elsewhere, you know." Elaine brought her hand up, pretending to study her perfectly manicured nails. Absently, Duke wondered how she could keep her nails that pristine and still be an effective fighter.

In response to Elaine's words, however, Duke snorted. "Like you don't. Stop trying to make me jealous, Elaine; you're not exactly a hard catch, and both of us know it."

Elaine pretended to be offended, but when the man did nothing but raise a brow at her, she gave it up. Throwing her hands up in defeat, she sighed. "Fine. I guess I'll just cut to the chase, then. You want to do it?"

For once, Duke actually considered it before responding. Maybe his reaction to Nash was simply because he'd abstained for a while. Perhaps if he gave Elaine what she wanted, the man would stop lurking in his thoughts, and give him peace. Even if it didn't work, he wouldn't be any worse off. With a shrug, Duke said, "Sure. Why the hell not? Got nothing better to do."

Elaine blinked, taken aback, like she hadn't expected Duke to agree. She recovered quickly enough though, crossing the room to snatch her prize up before he had a chance to renege. A few minutes later, she had him in bed, just where she wanted him. Elaine didn't know when this opportunity would arise again, so she made the most of it while she could.

By now the act was so routine that Duke didn't even have to think about it anymore. His thoughts turned elsewhere as he let Elaine do all the work, and he found himself wondering how it would feel if perhaps Elaine was a little more muscular, a little less curvy, and a lot more flat. He wondered what it would be like if Elaine was someone else entirely.

God, even now, he couldn't stop thinking about him. This wasn't going to work, but it was too late to stop. Duke mentally prepared himself, and tolerated Elaine's touch. His responses were automatic--unthinking and unfeeling, almost practiced. To make it easier on himself, he closed his eyes and thought of nothing but oblivion.

++

Nash turned away from the window the moment the woman entered the room. He didn't have a problem spying on people, but he was no voyeur. He had to draw the line somewhere.

It was starting to get a little cold out there, anyway. Nash briskly rubbed his arms as he leaned against the castle wall, looking up into the sky. It was late fall, and in this part of the world, that meant storms and hurricanes and rain, or so he'd heard. He had hoped to be on his way before the first storms hit, but maybe now he'd stick around for a little longer, since that he had something to do.

He hadn't started out the day with the intention of spying on Duke, really he hadn't. He had wandered outside to see where Dominguez had gotten himself off to, when he'd happened to see Duke pacing in his room, is all. It was really Duke's fault--he should think about drawing his curtains if he didn't want to attract peeping toms.

Intentional or not, Nash had stopped to see what the mercenary was up to. He hadn't seen Duke around in a while, but Nash found it amusing that Duke was hiding from him. He was really having fun playing with the other man, and it was far too nice a job to rush, so he was letting Duke have his time. After all, he knew he'd get what he wanted. No one could resist him for very long.

Nash chuckled, and the only response he got was the twittering of a bird far away. A puff of dust arose when he scuffed the ground with his boot; he watched it rise and settle before going on his way. He was a busy man, after all. He didn't have all day to coax Duke out of his room and into Nash's own.

There was about an hour or so he devoted to actual work.

Speaking of work, where was that damn bird? He should have returned with his money yesterday. This Dominguez was just as bad as his predecessor. Nash stomped off in the general direction of his room, wondering how much money he could get for a moderately trained Nasel bird. Hell, the meat should be worth a few potch as well.

Not that he'd ever do that, of course. For all that he complained about the bird, he'd really be quite lonely without him. Over the years, he'd actually come to enjoy Dominguez's presence a lot more than some humans. More intelligent company, most times, too. He didn't even have to worry about Dominguez trying to kill him while he slept, either. There were lots of good things about keeping a pet.

With a start, Nash wondered when he'd gotten so antisocial. Just a few years ago, he could have rattled off a list of people he'd actually enjoy spending time with. What happened to them? He vaguely remembered hearing about a few of their deaths, but that only answered half of his question. Why hadn't he kept in touch? It wasn't that hard, even though he was constantly moving around. His mail was forwarded to him via Dominguez...

When was the last time that he sat down and talked to someone? Not counting the mindless drivel he spouted to get some woman or man to fall into bed with him, he honestly couldn't remember. Nash was surprised by the wave of loneliness and sadness that washed over him, pausing briefly. He was turning into a misanthropic old man, and he hadn't even realized it.

Nash's fists clenched at his sides. He was scared. He didn't want to die alone. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see his time running out; everything passing him by... He wanted to cry out to tell it to stop, to let him catch up, but he didn't want to admit that he was frightened, or even that there was a problem at all. For so long he'd dealt with his problems by ignoring them, figuring that they'd simply solve themselves on their own. Why couldn't it work that way now? Why did it feel like everything was coming full circle...? What was he going to do if he had to go through all that again?

He knew the answer to that question, at least. He'd rather die than go through the same pain and anguish. That was one thing he gained from that experience fifteen years ago--he no longer feared death, at least. He had no compunctions about ending it if something like that were to arise again. None whatsoever.

Nash forced himself to calm down, take several deep breaths, and continue. Nothing like that is going to happen again, he assured himself. How could it? You won't let it. You're not seventeen and stupid anymore. Twenty years of experience has got to count for something.

Does it? Does it?

He searched within himself to find the answer, even if it was just want he wanted to hear. Eventually, he managed to bolster his spirits and respond to that lost, scared voice.

Yes. Yes, it does.

Nash kept walking.

++

Duke had never felt so unsatisfied in all his thirty-three years--and that was saying something. He scooted to the edge of the bed, as far away from Elaine as he could possibly get, hoping she would leave before he had to throw her out. He had hoped that this experience would at least settle his bodily needs, but he was sadly mistaken, even there. As loathe as he was to admit it, he still wanted Nash. Badly. Elaine had done nothing but drive this fact home.

So what to do? Could he proposition the man without feeling like an idiot? How does one come onto a man, anyway? Duke didn't even know how to let Nash know that he was curious.

Well, he knew the first step was to get the naked woman out of his bed and get clothed, at least. He'd start with that, and go from there.

"Elaine, are you done?" Duke's voice was a low grumble as he rolled over, pinning the woman with a disdainful look. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Got everything you wanted?"

The woman snorted. "Barely. You're really slacking off, nowadays. You just lay there. I'm a little disappointed." Despite her words, Elaine got up, diligently searching for her clothes.

Duke growled at her back. "I'm sorry, princess. You just don't do it for me anymore. Maybe because when I start thinking about the diseases you could give me, I get a little sick. Now get out before I toss you out." The mercenary sat up, making sure she knew that he could and would--and it would be very little effort to do so.

"Tootles, Duke. See you next week, same time?" Elaine winked playfully before slipping out the door, confident that Duke would come back, again and again. He was too lazy about such things to actually look for another woman, and more than anything, Elaine was convenient. They'd been together for more than ten years--if he hadn't left yet, he wasn't going to anytime soon.

Duke frowned at the closed door. Who the hell did she think she was? He wasn't a man to be predicted or undermined. Before he could work himself up into a rage, Duke realized that Elaine probably would be right. As of now, she was the closest thing to a lover he had, and so he was going to let her have her way.

Well, that was going to change, if only to prove her wrong.

Throwing on his clothes, Duke wondered where Nash would be at this time of day.

++

There was really nothing better that Nash liked than taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon. It appealed to his lazy, hedonistic side and he didn't get to do it often. Sleeping on the road during the nighttime was hard enough as it is, let alone during high traffic hours. Inns were either too noisy, and sleeping outside when the sun was shining was a bad idea for someone as fair as him.

But here, the sheets were clean and the beds were soft enough. Nash's room was far enough away from the busy parts of the castle that it was peaceful and quiet. He kicked off his boots and spread out over the thin blankets, hearing his back pop dully as he relaxed. It felt nice, to know that he wouldn't have to get up in another hour or so and climb back on a horse or walk until his feet bled. No pressure, no noise, no--What the hell was that?!

Nash's calm thoughts were interrupted by clattering footsteps and his door slamming open. Duke stood there, breathing heavy like he ran the entire way from his room to Nash's. For a brief moment Nash feared that he'd been caught peeking in the other man's window, but dismissed the idea as quickly as it'd come. He was far too good a spy to be caught by this man.

"What the--" Nash began.

"Shut up, you," Duke broke in. "I didn't come here to hear you talk."

The blonde man looked amused and perhaps just a little smug. This was an all time record for him. Someone had resisted for a full week before giving into him--and he'd even kissed this one. Admirable, that. "What did you come here for, then?" Nash raised a brow suggestively.

Duke was in agony. How could he tell this man what he wanted when he looked like that? It went against everything he believed in to give in to him, and yet he knew he'd have to if he ever wanted to get a little peace.

Fine. The mercenary mentally prepared himself to be humbled. Duke was still comforted by the fact that although he wanted Nash, he didn't like him. That meant everything was fine. He wasn't gay until he started liking Nash, too.

Duke was good at lying to himself.

"When you kissed me; what did you mean by that?" Duke chose to ignore the other man's question. He wasn't going to give himself any more of a disadvantage.

"'Mean by it?'" Nash laughed and tossed his hair back, though it immediately fell into his eyes again. "I didn't 'mean' anything by it. It was just a kiss." The Harmonian went to work turning this situation even more in his favor.

"Then what the hell did you do it for?!" The fiery-haired man exploded, all his frustration emerging in the simple outburst. He hated this--not being in control. It was even worse that he realized it. He might as well have put a leash on himself and handed it to Nash, for all the good he was doing mastering the situation.

"Because I wanted you to put me down, obviously. Though, if you're interested..." Nash trailed off, leaving the end of the sentence to Duke's imagination, for which it happily supplied a multitude of images and phrases that would have made a lesser man blush.

When Duke didn't respond quickly enough, Nash continued. "Just admit it; you're curious."

"I am not." The red-haired man stubbornly refused to have words put in his mouth. He wasn't going to give into Nash that easily--though he had been ready to only a few seconds before. Duke didn't take kindly to being lead about like a dog, and he was going to let Nash know it.

"Then why are you here?" Nash responded quickly, like he had already had this argument once before. Perhaps he had. It was getting hard to tell.

Duke, on the other hand, had to think about the answer to that particular question. "I'm here because..."

Nash's brows raised, urging the other man to continue. "Because...?"

"Because I want you to leave me alone."

And it was the truth. He really did. Duke wished he could pat himself on the back for coming up with that one. He usually was horrible with subtlety and double entendre, but he'd actually managed to pull it off, that time.

Nash, however, was not quite so impressed. "Do you really? I feel obligated to point out that I haven't seen you in the past week; how much more alone do you want me to leave you?" A knowing look captured his fine features. "Or maybe you don't want me to leave you alone like that at all. It's been bugging you all week long, hasn't it? That kiss. Is that how you want me to leave you alone?"

"Dammit!" Duke resisted the strong urge to punch something. Something named Nash. "Alright! You win. Is that what you wanted to hear? I want to screw you. I want to have sex with a man." Duke crossed his arms over his chest and refused to meet Nash's eyes, looking rather like a large, pouting child. Then Nash blew him away by snorting.

"You want to screw me?" He said. "Yeah, right. You don't even know what the hell you're doing. If I'm going to touch you at all, it's going to be the other way around."

"What?! No. That's not the way it works." Duke frantically waved a hand in Nash's general direction, trying to emphasize his point.

"I daresay I'm a bit more experienced than you, Duke. I can assure you that this is, indeed, 'the way it works.'"

"But it can't be..." The younger man protested feebly, his shoulders drooping. Nash had won, and he knew it. He could still back out, but then he'd probably be worse than when he started. But... But... To let another man do that to him? Maybe he'd rather be insane. That would be less humiliating, in any case.

Nash saw Duke's indecision and leapt to sway his mind in his favor. Taking the other man's wrist, Nash pulled him away from the door and closed it gently behind him, hoping to limit Duke's options for him. Nash fully intended to use his slightly greater height to its full advantage, and he did, coming in close to none-too-subtly push Duke further into the room.

Duke, cowed, went along peacefully to Nash's herding. He was still trying to get used to the idea. Are you really going to let him...you know...? The worst part of it was when he couldn't come up with an idea why not. It's only this one time. No one has to know. If you don't like it, well, at least he'll be out of your system, right? He soon found himself standing before the blonde man's bed. Now or never. Make your move.

"So, what's it going to be?" Nash's words echoed Duke's thoughts. "I'm not going to for--"

For the second time that day Duke interrupted Nash. Only this time he did so by covering the older man's lips with his own, tentatively outlining them with his tongue before pulling back.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Nash laughed. "You're sure, though?"

"Yeah. But if you tell anyone about this later I'll beat you up so bad, your mother won't recognize you," replied Duke, smiling for the first time since he entered the other's room.

"Alright, it's a deal. Don't say I never did anything for you."

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other. When they did speak, it was in unison.

"How do..."

"Why don't you..."

Finally Nash ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Look, it's not completely different from making love to a woman. Just relax." Placing a hand at the base of Duke's neck so he wouldn't pull away, Nash leaned in and touched his lips to Duke's once again. Before the man could protest, or really do much at all, Nash's grip tightened and he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past the younger man's lips with no resistance.

Nash felt Duke's hands rest lightly on his hips before fluttering away again, as if the man feared he was doing something wrong. The blonde man caught the other's wrist in his hand and quickly returned it to its former place. Duke was concentrating on the kiss, but he did not miss the feel of Nash's body under his hand--there was no swell of the hip but the waist was as narrow; the muscle was more wiry and more toned. It was different, but...

Duke pulled back to catch his breath, studying Nash's face briefly. The taller man shook his head.

"Don't stop and think about it. Just go."

"Just...go, huh?" Duke replied, one of his hands trailing higher.

"Yes. Do what feels right." Nash smirked at the other's touch, pleased that Duke was starting to respond. He captured the other's lips again, but jumped away with a start as he felt Duke's rather large hand cover and squeeze his left pectoral muscle. He glowered at the younger man, knocking his hand away.

"I'm not a girl, dummy. There's nothing there to feel," Nash explained scathingly, though he was unsure whether the gesture was intentional or not. Maybe Duke really didn't have any idea. If that was the case, the Harmonian really regretted his tone.

"Sorry. You said do what feels right..." Duke managed to look sheepish, but in fact, he'd done in on purpose. He figured that just because he had agreed to this didn't mean he couldn't tease the other man a little. He wasn't just going to give up the position of dominance so easily.

Nash raised an eyebrow at Duke, but decided that he didn't know him well enough to decide whether the expression was faked or not. It wasn't hard to believe that Duke had never had sex with a man--in fact, it was probably likely. Nash hadn't been lying when he accused the younger man of not knowing what he was doing. Well, all the better. Perversely, Nash despised gay men.

"Do what's right within reason, then." In order to avoid any further uncomfortable silences, Nash pushed Duke down on the bed, following him shortly after as he straddled the younger's hips. By now, Duke was returning the blonde's touch with equal passion and it was everything he imagined it would be. Of course, in his imagination, he had been the one pinning Nash down to the mattress, but as much as he didn't want to admit it, this worked, too. At least this way, Duke couldn't be blamed for "just laying there," as Elaine had so bluntly put it. Isn't that what he was supposed to do?

Nash was right. He had no idea what the hell he was doing or he'd gotten himself into. Not that it mattered much now, from the blonde's death grip on his shirt, he doubted he'd be able to tell him to stop and still escape unscathed.

But at the moment, getting away was about the furthest thing from his mind. It felt good to let the other man touch him--Nash's hands were firm and just the slightest bit rough, not sharp and unforgiving like Elaine's. Duke let out a small grunt of protest when Nash pulled away to tug his shirt over his head, leaving Duke's hair sticking up every which way. Nash chuckled, running his fingers through it even as he bit playfully at the younger man's lips.

Duke, rarely ever meek in anything that he did, was no different in this. Slipping his hands under Nash's snug-fitting clothes, he ran sword-callused hands over the man's waist and abdomen before going higher. His fingers encountered the smooth, slick flesh of the scars that ran lateral along Nash's ribs, and Duke traced them, musing in a distant part of his mind.

Once again Nash knocked Duke's hands away, barely pausing in his efforts to unbuckle the younger's belt. The mercenary was confused and suddenly at a loss as to what to do with his hands. What the hell could he do if Nash wouldn't even let him touch him? With a growl of frustration, he jerked at the other's clothes and smiled a little in satisfaction as Nash's shirt slid from his shoulders with little to no protest.

"Easy," the older man admonished. "There's no need to rush." He finally succeeded in undoing Duke's complicated belt and whipped it free with a small flourish. Breaking away to throw it over his shoulder, he quickly returned to the matter at hand. Nash slid the pants over the other man's hips, his lips quirking upwards in a sharp smile as he raked his eyes over Duke's now naked form. "No need at all."

Duke wished Nash would quit yapping and get on with it. Or let him get on with it, or something. The older man's pants were of a much simpler design than his own, and Duke easily pushed them down as far as he was able. As Duke looked the other man over, he once again felt a little pang of uncertainty fire somewhere deep inside him. The expression on his face told Nash as much, and the older man laughed.

"If you played the part of a blushing virgin any better, I'd sent you to a damned convent." Nash pulled his pants completely off, and settled on top of Duke easily. With a practiced ease, the older man reached between their bodies to brush his fingers along Duke's length before wrapping his hand around him completely, coaxing him erect.

The fiery-haired man moaned low in his chest; the sound was more felt by Nash than heard. Nash watched Duke's expression interestedly as he stroked him, amused by the play of emotions that paraded across the other's face. Men like Duke were always fun to watch.

But even that got boring after a while.

"Having fun?" Nash's voice was throaty, his words muttered into Duke's ear as he worried the lobe between his teeth. He continued to run his fingers along the other man, hoping to distract him from what he was going to do next.

"Huh?" If Duke had had the conscious of mind, he would have glared at the older man, but as it was, his words only annoyed him. "Shut up, would you?" He grabbed Nash's hips, arching against him. The blonde's expression turned serious all at once as he resisted the urge to gasp as their erections were brought together, the color of his eyes deepening undiscernibly.

"Yeah, I'll shut up," he said, his voice as close to a growl as it ever got. It was because of Duke's request that Nash decided it wasn't that important to warn him about what happens next. Wetting his fingers cursorily, he entered the other man.

Duke immediately tried to jump away. "What the hell do you--!"

"Be still!" Nash bit out, his voice holding a hint of steel. Duke immediately obeyed--no one had talked to him like that in years, the last of which had been his father. He was too shocked to really put up much of a fight anyway; no one had said anything about this hurting.

"That hurts; stop it," the mercenary returned just as harshly. He didn't move, but he was tense underneath Nash, ready to throw him off at a moment's notice.

"It'll hurt even more if I don't. Quit complaining." The blonde added another finger, pointedly ignoring Duke. A moment later he encountered the man's prostate, and he pressed against it, smiling widely as the disgruntled expression vanished from Duke's face. "Better?"

Duke was nodded, his mouth falling open as he moved against Nash again, trying to feel as much of the man against him as he possibly could.

"Good." Nash continued the motion for a few long moments, until a sweat broke out on the younger man's skin. He traced a line up Duke's chest with his tongue, enjoying the salty flavor against his lips. Withdrawing his hands, Nash thrust his tongue between the other's lips even as he spread his legs a bit wider. He positioned himself to enter Duke, meeting his eyes with a questioning glance before proceeding. When the mercenary nodded and shrugged minimally, Nash went ahead, entering him with restraint. So far, Duke had been good to him, so he was inclined to return the favor.

Gritting his teeth, Duke considered Nash's previous words. He was right again--this could have hurt a lot more. As it was, he was having trouble restraining himself from pushing the other man away or generally lashing out at him. Duke wasn't used to letting someone hurt him without a little pain in return. Once Nash was sheathed completely within him, however, the older man captured his length, distracting him from the unpleasant stretching sensation.

Nash moved slowly, taking his time building a rhythm. While he didn't want to hurt the other man, he certainly didn't fear breaking him--that was what was nice about men like Duke. He was pretty much assured to be able to take whatever Nash felt like dealing out.

Duke's movements gained a little more confidence as the pain began to gradually fade. Eventually, he found himself meeting Nash's thrusts evenly; even reaching up to run his hands across the blonde's back--careful not to touch the scars this time. He was surprised to hear his own voice, calling out like he never had with Elaine, as the other man began to speed up.

A lazy smirk spread on Nash's face as he listened to Duke--the man was noisy--he found it endearing. But Nash wanted something other than to hear him cry out; he increased the pressure of his hand and thrusts as he worked to make the other come. Duke complied with his wishes fairly easily, tensing underneath him. Nash was soon to follow, the feeling of the younger man's muscles tightening around him drawing him to climax.

Nash rolled off of Duke almost immediately, laying on his side next to the other man. Duke blinked blearily at him, before closing his eyes and sleeping the sleep of the post coital. The Harmonian shrugged. He wasn't about to let a little bout of sex interrupt his afternoon nap. Duke could stay a little while longer while he slept.

The blonde was almost asleep when a large arm fell over his chest and he was pulled into a loose embrace. He struggled for a minute--Nash didn't like to be touched after sex--but the sleeping man stubbornly refused to let him go. Grumbling to himself, Nash acquiesced, reluctantly becoming Duke's pillow. Damn it all, there went his chances of sleeping peacefully.

Tossing a wry look down at Duke, Nash sighed. The man looked stubborn even when he was sleeping. Well, just this once, he'd let him have his way. Nash was too lazy to fight with an unconscious man. He wouldn't win anyway.

Nash stretched and yawned, settling back down into the pillows. He closed his eyes, thinking that he'd at least try and sleep, even though he never been able to do so with someone touching him, and was asleep within a few moments.